Hope
by J. Marguerite
Summary: Danielle waits outside Johnny's house, waiting to be let in. Set during Broken Memories.


A/N: Slightly based on what happened to me this afternoon. I'm tired.

Disclaimer: Johnny, nor his house, do not belong to me and are copyrighted to Jhonen Vasquez and similar. Danielle and Lola belong to me.

* * *

'Johnny! Let me in!' Danielle whined loudly, rapping harshly on the front door of her "humble" abode. 'Open the door, come _on_!'

'Hang on…' came Johnny's muffled reply from deep within the depths of the house. Danielle only whined louder, her school bag hanging from her shoulders, slapping her on the back. Lola hung out precariously, the Barbie's ever-smiling face plastered on as usual, arm stuck up in the air, pointing at the heavens.

'John_nyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy_' Danielle cried louder, bashing on the door with her tiny fist. 'This isn't funny at all, let me in already!'

The seven-year-old girl hopped on the spot, staring at the blank front door, the final coat of paint that once gleamed an impressive red dull and faded, peeling underneath her knuckles. The hope that once appeared on the front door was long gone, and despair only projected from the door. The door was locked, a rare occurrence, and Danielle was locked out on the streets, her own despair apparent on her face. Her father figure was somewhere in the house, keeping Danielle on the streets until her could make it to the door to let her in. And so, she hopped from foot to foot, fussing restlessly.

She looked over her shoulder, staring out at the streets, biting her lower lip. Tugging down at her dress, she pulled it over her knees, the pretty pink swishing around her thighs, doing nothing for her boyish figure and only displaying her innocence, her mind ready to be corrupted by the horrors of the earth and the troubles that brew beneath its beautiful appearance. Regardless of her circumstances, regardless of her past and regardless of her present, her mind could still be swayed, her principles and values, her morals and ethics could be changed. Her future was still unplanned as some could and would say. Others, however, could say her future was predetermined and there was no changing it. Science would prefer the former, fortunetellers the latter.

'Come _on_, Johnny!' Danielle continued to cry, looking desperately over her shoulder. 'What is taking you so long, this isn't funny anymore!'

Whether Johnny replied, Danielle couldn't tell. Silence only responded, and Danielle jumped up and down, one of the straps on her bag slipping down her shoulder. She paused only to push it back up, before she started again. She turned around on the spot and faced the road. A car drove by quickly, the sound growing and disappearing. The wind, forced upon by the vehicle, rushed by her, blowing her hair about and sweeping the skirt of her dress up and around her knees. She caught her skirt and tugged it down again.

The girl kicked her feet about, her sandals scratching on the ground, dirt flying up as she stamped her foot on the ground and began to complain loudly again. She rocked back and forth, gritting her teeth and doing all she could in her seven-year-old body, her child's body, to push the door open. However, she remained unsuccessful. Scrunching her face up, she crouched down, hugging herself, hopping from foot to foot.

'_Please_ Johnny' she pleaded to the door, 'Open the door already!'

And as if her wish was granted, the door finally opened. Johnny looked down at her, a bemused expression on his gaunt features.

'What's wrong?' he asked as he watched the little girl dance in front of him. Danielle, however, did not reply, and instead pushed past him. Her backpack fell of her shoulders and landed with a heavy thump on the ground. Lola fell out and skidded along the dirty floorboards. Her hair spread out in a fan, dust and dirt inflicting it with its germ-ridden secrets, which were hidden, such as diseases. The pink dress also grew filthy, tainting its optimism and prospect and faith. Her arm which once pointed up was thrown down, hitting the ground as the Barbie bounced on the besmirched which was biased to no one and destroyed everyone. The doll's beautiful smile however remained and was not swayed by her changed in conditions, painted on and permanent. The trip from the colourful backpack to the dirty floor did not wipe the smile off her face even though no one came to pick her up, brush her off, and place her back in her rightful place.

Danielle ran around the corner and into the corridor. A door could soon be heard being slammed shut and Johnny slowly shut the door to the front of the house. A few minutes passed, and in that time Johnny picked up Danielle's school bag, and set Lola inside it, still dirty but ever-smiling. His adopted daughter soon returned, smiling. She brushed off her pink dress, pushed her dark hair from her face, and grabbed her bag. Her sandals slapped loudly on the ground as she started back towards the corridor. Johnny watched her, a frown upon his face. He reached out to her before she turned down the corridor.

'What was that all about?' he asked, his voice reverberating off the wooden walls of the room. Danielle turned, eyebrows raised, surprised.

'What was what?' she responded, tilting her head forward, clutching the straps to her bag. Johnny pointed to the front door and then down the corridor.

'You're winging and whining to come in, and when you do you rush off, dropping you things, and disappear. You were even dancing at the front door, for Christ's sake' Johnny crossed his arms over his chest, and cocked an eyebrow. 'That's what.'

Danielle looked at the front door for a moment and soon began to laugh. Johnny appeared unimpressed.

'I was doing a pee-pee dance!' Danielle cried out, giggling loudly. Johnny screwed his face up, confused.

'A pee-pee dance?' he repeated, bluntly.

'Yeah! I had to go pee!' Danielle giggled again, and shook her head. She turned on her foot, and walked happily off into the corridor and to her room, a dirty Lola still sticking out of her bag, hair dirty, dress dusty and arm sticking down at the ground, although her face happy and smiling forever more.

* * *

A/N: Yup, still tired. 


End file.
